


Messy (the surprising reunion of befriended thoughts)

by thebeehive



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Beards (Relationships), M/M, Solo Artist Harry Styles, Solo Artist Liam Payne, Solo Artist Louis Tomlinson, Solo Artist Niall Horan, Solo Artist Zayn, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, and life post one direction, bandmates to friends to ex-bandmates to semi-enemies to friends to you-can-guess, one direction - Freeform, sad face, that all eventually gets resolved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 18:51:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18184415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebeehive/pseuds/thebeehive
Summary: "But Liam also agreed to do it on a condition. He has not been in a public relationship for quite some time, and neither have you. So Liam will be publicly dating Bella Hadid."For a minute Zayn thought that he had completely lost his grasp on reality. "Bella...Gigi's sister Bella?""Correct. We wanted an American and young, something different for Liam this time. Bella is single now, and -"“Bella Hadid. Are you fucking kidding, bro?” Zayn cut off the PR hack, and turned to Liam."Zayn, just listen. It will be worth it to make the songs together, it won't be that bad, I promise. Don't you want to make music together, like we used to?"  Liam said, eyes big and brown and at his most puppyish - and those eyes were directed full force at Zayn.Zayn wanted to slap his face. “You’re telling me...that in order for me and Liam to sing together he has to date Bella?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hesitated to publish this. In my drafts I titled it “Messy” as I didn’t know what else to call it. I kept the name. 
> 
> All the words/behaviors in the below work are not reflective of how I actually feel towards, or think any of the people/companies mentioned, actually act/think/feel. All fiction, all the way. Anyway, enjoy the mess.
> 
>  
> 
> The rest of the title is from the following:  
> "Many a witty inspiration is like the surprising reunion of befriended thoughts after a long separation"  
> -Karl Wilhelm Friedrich Schlegel

Zayn got the phone call on a Tuesday. A Tuesday that was going pretty fucking well, if he did say so himself. He had slept in. The sun was shining when he woke up. He packed a bowl. He ate some cereal. He went outside and fucked around with his archery. He sat outside and spent a solid two hours writing some song lyrics. The sun was warm on his back, the smell of spring and flowers was heavy in the air. Zayn half expected a bird and a squirrel and other miscellaneous wood land creatures to come out of the trees and the sky and keep him company. The day was going well. Until that phone call.

“Liam Payne?” he asked in disbelief. “Really? Him?”

It had been well over a year since the last time he had spoken on the phone with Liam, and almost 8 months since they had texted. Not that Zayn was keeping track. 

It was his personal assistant, Crissy, on the other line, parroting back what his management at the label was requesting. But Zayn knew better. Requests somehow turned out to be demands based on the bottom line. Zayn wasn’t born yesterday. But a meeting with his label and Liam? What the fuck was even happening - if they were signing Liam, Zayn wondered why he needed to be there. What else could it possibly be?

“Ok, fuck, fine, I’ll be there,” Zayn snapped and ended the call. 

He looked down at his phone and sighed. He immediately dialed Crissy back.

“Yes,” she sounded like she was one second away from crying or screaming.

“I’m sorry, i’m sorry,” Zayn said. “I didn’t mean to be, well - I didn’t mean to be rude. I know you’re just passing on the message.”

“Yes,” was all she said. Crissy had been his assistant for almost a year now. Zayn actually liked her. And when he got in one of his moods he tried to never take it out on her. 

“Look, Crissy, I’m sorry. And I’ll be there, yeah? Promise I'll show up.”

“Ok,” she didn’t sound convinced.

Zayn sighed, looking down at his hand, clutching the pen he was still holding - he had been writing lyrics just a couple of blissful, peaceful minutes ago. His “love” tattoo was prominent as he squeezed the pen harder than he should have. The tattoo seemed to be mocking him. 

“No, I'll show up, swear to it. Can you send a car? Please?”

Crissy let out a loud sigh over the phone. Zayn thought it was a little dramatic, but he dared not say anything.

“Yes. I’ll have the car at your house at 9, ok? And the meeting is at 10.”

“Gotcha, gotcha. I’ll be there,” Zayn said.

“Ok, talk to you later, bye,” Crissy said.

“Bye,” Zayn said. He ended the call, feeling better about how he treated his personal assistant, if not the current situation. Liam fucking Payne. Of all the people in the world. Zayn clenched his jaw and put the pen down. Time for some rage fueled shopping on Amazon.

 

Thousands of dollars in shoes and several days later, Zayn stood outside a swanky London office building. He looked down at his new Adidas Yeezy Boost 700s. He thought they would make him feel better. They didn’t. He had agonized over his outfit. He hadn’t seen Liam in person in years. The past several days he had gone through his - admittedly, embarrassingly large wardrobe - hating everything. 

In the end he had settled for, in Zayn’s mind at least, a look that said: I’m not trying too hard, I’m not dressed up, but I still look good. So he paired the Yeezys with ripped, paint splattered jeans and he wore one of his hundreds of Penshoppe tops with a colorful print, unbuttoned halfway down his chest, to show off his ink. Along with a ton of bracelets. He jingled when he walked or moved his arms. 

Zayn didn't necessarily love Penshoppe, but he needed to remind his label that yes, he had a side job. Zayn suspected his label didn't care how many modeling gigs he picked up on the side, but he somehow felt it necessary to remind people that he could indeed be a model. Not that Liam cared, Zayn thought. Not that he cared what Liam thought or if Liam didn't care. Zayn shook his head. He did not care what Liam thought, or what Liam was wearing (although from what he'd seen of recent pictures of Liam, he'd seemingly abandoned his short-lived fashion exploration in over the top chains and Gucci hip bags in favor of high-waisted trousers and well cut shirts. While Zayn thought he looked just fine, he privately missed the more outlandish sartorial choices.) No, no. Zayn did NOT care. End of thought.

Once inside and led up to a high floor by an assistant, Zayn's nerves began to kick in. He had arrived (a very acceptable, he thought) 15 minutes late, holding an iced coffee. The reason for the ice-coffee was two-fold: first as a power move - to bring home the fact that he was late and STILL showed up holding an iced coffee; therefore this meeting was not at the top of his priorities; and the coffee was also a prop to give him time to think. If there was a question he didn't want to answer, he could take a long, contemplative sip of the iced coffee and pretend to mull over his response. 

The assistant led him to a nondescript door at the end of a beige hallway, and ushered him into a large conference room. Zayn made sure to put his most bored, disaffected look on. If he thought he could get away with wearing sunglasses inside, he would have. But he knew that would be crossing the asshole threshold, even though he would have felt safer. 

The first thing Zayn noticed was Liam, sitting by himself on the near side of a long rectangular table. His shirt was green. Zayn wondered why that was the first thing that came to mind after not seeing his former band mate for years. Across from him, on the other side of the table, a row of men and women stared blankly at Zayn. 

"Hullo, sorry I'm late," Zayn clutched his iced coffee hard, the condensation dripped down his wrist, and he felt incredibly self-conscious. Why did he think being late and holding an iced coffee would be a power move? It just made him look unprofessional. Of course Liam would be on time. And wearing a green polo no less. Zayn suddenly felt every single one of the unbuttoned-buttons on his ridiculously loud flowered shirt. 

Zayn shook himself. He looked fine. Nothing mattered. This meeting did not matter. He stepped forward towards the table, his bracelets clanging together in the silence. Before he could take a couple steps, Liam stood up. 

"Good to see ya mate," he said, "it's been a while." And then he enveloped Zayn in a full frontal hug, careful to avoid the iced coffee. Zayn held his breath. Liam was warm, his arms were firm, and he smelled expensive. Zayn felt Liam's wristwatch dig into his back. And some things never change, he thought, suddenly filled with regret. It had been so long.

Liam stepped back and sat down. Zayn exhaled, and forced himself to move forward, sitting on Liam's side of the table, of which, there were only two chairs. Of course. There was enough room for ten chairs, and yet somehow there were only two, shoved right next to each other, so Zayn had no choice but to sit within a foot of Liam.

"Good to see you too," Zayn managed to get out. "Good morning, everyone," he nodded toward the suits. He looked at Liam out of the corner of his eye. He looked so...healthy. So robust? Zayn wondered if he had just returned from a vacation, he looked so tan and well-rested. 

"Now that everyone is here, let's begin, shall we?" Dave from his label was speaking. Dave was the numbers guy, and he was about as exciting as cardboard. Zayn realized he only knew half the people at the table. The half he knew were from his label and his PR, the others he didn't recognize.

"Zayn, let me introduce you to Brad, Henry, and Dominique, from Capital Records, and Janine and Rich, from Murray Chalmers PR."

Zayn suddenly had a very, very bad feeling. Call it intuition, call it a second sense, call it his many years in the music business, but he knew he was about to hear something he didn't like. If Liam's label and PR were here, that probably meant he wasn't being signed over to Zayn's label. But then it probably meant...

"Your last record fell below well below projections," Dave was saying, and Zayn felt his hackles rise. He loved that record, and the fights with the label had been never-ending with what he knew his vision was for the record versus the label just trying to create another single like Pillowtalk. Zayn didn't want another Pillowtalk. He wanted to try something new and different. And whether it sold off the charts or just had respectable sales (Zayn knew the music business was a business, after all, he didn't want a flop either), as long as he was proud of the music and his fans enjoyed it, nothing else mattered. But the label had a different approach, Zayn felt the record had been compromised. 

"... and since the record didn't perform to expectations, there was not enough support for a tour," Dave continued, "and your lack of promotion created a negative public perception, which was split between animosity against us, the label, support for your perceived anxiety (Zayn saw Liam turn towards him at this point, but he looked straight ahead, trying not to react out of shame and a growing sense of anger. Zayn hated nothing more to be laid bare like this), and finally, a view that you are difficult to work with."

At that, Zayn felt himself lurch forward. He wanted to walk, no RUN out of the room. He needed to get as far away from these people as possible. Fuck his label, fuck all these people. What did they know about anxiety? And lack of promotion - the moment he sent the tweet stating his label was holding back his album, he was locked down on almost all promotion. 

Zayn felt a hand on his arm. He turned towards Liam, who had reached out and put a large, reassuring hand on his forearm. Liam gave him a squeeze, and leaned forward. "Just hear them out, it gets better, I promise," he whispered. 

And Zayn was taken back, back, back - to all the interviews he had ever done in the One Direction days - in hotel rooms, in shopping malls, in radio stations - with Liam a comforting presence by his side, along with the other boys. But that was years ago, and he barely knew Liam anymore. The hand on his arm was the only thing tethering Zayn to the room, and that hold was fragile. But it was enough to keep Zayn in his seat. For now.

"And as we discussed, Liam has yet to produce a full length album, and the last several singles he has collaborated on have under-performed as well," and was Dave still talking? 

Zayn felt a strong urge to reach across the table and punch Dave full in the face. He had enjoyed a lot of Liam's singles, and so what if he hadn't made an album yet? As long as he was happy with what he was doing, who gave a fuck? Zayn looked at Liam again. He looked calm. Zayn suddenly wondered - if Liam was happy, what was he doing in this meeting? As if reading his mind Liam gently squeezed Zayn's arm again.

"And so, we thought the perfect solution to both of your current situations was to suggest a collaboration between the two of you - we want you both to write and sing on an EP together- just three songs."

Zayn felt dazed. Writing, singing, spending time with Liam? He turned in his seat. "You knew they were going to suggest this?"

 

Liam took a breath. He looked older than the last time Zayn saw him. He WAS older. It had been several years. He would always look boyish with those imploring eyes and ridiculous nose, but he definitely seemed more grown up, like he was actually a man now. "I did. There were other things I had to agree to, in order to make this happen."

He wasn't making eye contact with Zayn anymore. He let go of Zayn's arm.

"Liam. What did you agree to?" Zayn turned towards the label and PR minions . "What are you making Liam agree to?" And now Zayn felt like he was really back in One Direction days - standing up to management. He just needed Louis by his side and the flashback would be complete.

Dave was silent now. The woman from Liam's PR spoke up, Zayn couldn't remember her name for the life of him. "Well, Liam agreed to do the EP with you, if you were willing to do it, of course." 

Her tone implied that of course Zayn would do it, did he even have a choice in the matter? Zayn had one more album he owed his label. He would bet every piece of jewelry he had ever owned that the label would let him out of his contract if he agreed to do the EP with Liam. All he had wanted since his last record went south was to get out of his contract, and he had a feeling this would be the ticket out. But what was in it for Liam, he wondered.

"But Liam also agreed to do it on a condition. He has not been in a public relationship for quite some time, and neither have you. So Liam will be publicly dating Bella Hadid."

For a minute Zayn thought that he had completely lost his grasp on reality. "Bella...Gigi's sister Bella?"

"Correct. We wanted an American and young, something different for Liam this time. Bella is single now, and -" 

“Bella Hadid. Are you fucking kidding, bro?” Zayn cut off the PR hack, and turned to Liam. 

"Zayn, just listen. It will be worth it to make the songs together, it won't be that bad, I promise. Don't you want to make music together, like we used to?" Liam said, eyes big and brown and at his most puppyish, and those eyes were directed at Zayn. 

Zayn wanted to slap his face. “You’re telling me...that in order for me and Liam to sing together he has to date Bella?"

"Well," this time it was Bruce, from Zayn's PR team. "We're bringing Gigi back, too. But just as friends this time. There will have to be some double dates with all four of you -" 

Zayn folded his hands tightly together in his lap, listening to this train wreck unfold. Yes, he was definitely going to punch something or someone before the day was over. What. the. Fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments! Still unsure about this one, lol. Hope you enjoy the next chapter!

Zayn continued to clasp his hands tightly in his lap; primarily to prevent himself from punching someone. Whether that was Liam, who was sitting next to him, or the row of management across from him, or even just the nearest wall, he wasn’t sure what or whom he wanted to lash out at first. When Gigi’s name was mentioned he visibly flinched, and hunched over further in his seat, feeling sick.

“No, no,” Liam was saying, when the buzzing static in Zayn’s ears receded long enough for him to tune back into the room. “Gigi was not part of the agreement. That was never on the table. It was to be me and Bella, only. Me and Bella would date, and Zayn and I would make the music. That’s what I agreed to.”

Zayn looked up, shocked. People who weren’t close with Liam didn’t know: the softer and more measured and calm his voice and tone became, the more furious he was. And right now his voice was deadly calm.

“Listen, Liam, we decided it was for the best -” began one of the men across the table, someone from Zayn’s PR.

“No, I’m sorry, no,” Liam cut him off, voice even lower. “If Zayn and I go on a double date with them, that doesn’t even make sense. People will think that Zayn and I - No, no. Gigi is off the table or I walk away from the whole thing. Zayn is not going to date her again, or be friends with her again, or have her in any way in his life again.”

Zayn was beyond shocked at this point. Liam’s sentence had ended in a growl; he was practically vibrating in his seat.

“Listen, Liam, when we test marketed -” began another one of the PR guys. 

“No.” This time Liam wasn’t calm, this time the word was almost a shout. Zayn felt like he didn’t know the man in front of him. The Liam he knew was a people-pleaser to his core; too kind and sincere, with his stubborn refusal to let anybody down - whether that be friends, family, a music executive, or a random fan on the street that wanted to take a picture with him. Zayn subsequently admired and wanted to shake Liam for that character trait alone - in the end though, he had seen Liam taken advantage of one too many times to think that was a positive behavior. But, apparently, that Liam no longer existed. Or, at least, he didn’t exist here in this room in this heated moment.

“Sorry, no Gigi or no deal,” Liam said in a calmer tone. “Actually -” here he stood up, and gently grabbed Zayn’s arm, lifting him out of his seat. Zayn had lost all control of his motor functions and stood up with Liam’s prodding. He felt like he was floating outside his body, watching this horror show unfold. “Zayn and I are going to go for a quick walk down to the break room, yeah? When we come back let us know if we still have a deal.”

And with that he led a very shell-shocked Zayn out of the conference room, back down that bland beige hallway, around a corner, and into a small break room. There was a fridge in the corner; Liam went over and took out two bottles of water, handed one to Zayn, and then sank down into a chair pushed in front a small round table. He didn’t open the water but instead hunched over and put the cold bottle against his forehead. Zayn looked at the muscles in Liam’s arms flex and thought about how once again, somethings never change, including Liam’s dedication to his gym routine. He also looked at tattoos that he knew about, but hadn’t seen in person, on Liam’s arms. He wondered what Liam thought about his own neck tattoos. He absently raised his arm and rested his own cold bottle against the back of his neck, right over where he knew his otherness tattoo to be.

“Trying to cool off, bro?” Zayn said weakly. He couldn’t believe he was trying to joke about things, but at this point what was left of his understanding of the situation had flown out the proverbial window. He was with Liam, whom he hadn't seen in person in years, after walking out of a conference room after agreeing to… well, Zayn hadn’t actually agreed to anything. Not the EP with Liam, not dating Gigi again- he had not said yes or no to a single thing.

“Shit. Shit. Zayn, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I had no idea they would bring up Gigi,” Liam’s voice was muffled, his head down, with his arms and the bottle of water the only thing shielding him from the world. 

Zayn sank down into the other chair at the small table across from Liam. He started to peel off the label of his bottle. “I’m usually the one that says no. I like saying no,” Zayn laughed, but it sounded empty. “I just froze in there when they said her fucking name. I didn’t say no. I didn’t say anything. I’m usually the one who -” He doesn’t finish his thought.

Liam finally looked up, brown eyes huge and sad. Zayn felt his stomach twist. But he had to know, the question had burned inside from the moment he first received the call asking him to come to this very meeting.

“Why Liam? I mean, not dating Bella. Well, why the fuck would you agree to that bro? But why would you want to make music with me? It’s been… years. We don’t even talk anymore. Haven’t for a while. And you want to make music with me so bad you’d be ok fake dating someone? What makes you think I would even say yes? Why not call me up and ask me what I want, if this is something I would do? But you went through the fucking label to have this meeting?”

Liam hadn’t broken eye contact while Zayn was speaking, and Zayn couldn’t tear his gaze away from Liam’s sad eyes. Liam looked down, breaking the growing tension. “I just thought - I thought. I don’t know. Your label had the idea about us doing the EP together. They said my style would go best with yours. They thought about the other boys but - “ Liam paused, looking up again, then looked back down. He started picking at the label on his water bottle. 

Zayn looked at his own shredded label and sighed, putting down his water. “Let me guess. They thought we would go together better - I mean, our music, our voices, our style even probably. Would go together better than the other boys. And of course it would make money.” Zayn knew it. The bottom line reared its ugly head. 

“Pretty much,” Liam nodded. Zayn watched his long fingers continue to nervously shred the water bottle label. Liam wore no rings and no bracelets, unlike Zayn; just a very, very nice looking watch. Zayn craned his neck. Bvlgari. Of course it was. 

“So they approached my label,” Liam continued. “And my label liked the idea, agreed to it right away. I still haven’t put an album out - but, well, anyway. And then when they brought in PR, it was decided one of us needed to date someone if we would be working together, and getting photographed and stuff. And I’ve been single for a while now. And when they asked me and said it would have to be one of us, I agreed of course. Not going to put that on you when I wanted - I wanted..”

Liam paused, then looked at Zayn, as earnestly as he ever had (which for Liam Payne was pretty fucking earnest, Zayn thought helplessly). He reached out and held Zayn’s arm again, and Zayn had forgotten what it was like to constantly be touched by the boys he used to spend so much time with. But Liam, just by being in front of Zayn, with his warm touch -even his familiar smell - was bringing back so many memories. Zayn just wasn’t sure if he wanted to open that pandora's box again.

“Zayn, when they told me, I didn’t even hesitate. I didn’t care if I had to date someone. I told them Bella was a pretty fucking stupid idea, it didn’t make sense, but even now I don’t care. I know things will never go back to the way they were. I know you won’t come back to the band. I know that, I do. But I’ve missed you. I miss writing lyrics with you, and creating beats and working on melodies. I want to be inspired again. And I’ve missed being friends with you. I’ve missed talking to you. So much, I can’t even tell you-”

Zayn stopped him. “I thought Louis was your writing buddy?”

Liam laughed. “And he was. We wrote a lot together. You know, you were there. But we were writing FOR One Direction. Think of all the things you and I wrote together - they never would have gone that way on the albums for the band. Our labels aren’t wrong. Our voices, our genres, they’ll go together. And it’s only a couple songs? Remember how much fun we used to have?”

And now Liam had gone from looking like a sad puppy to looking like a hopeful puppy, and Zayn couldn’t handle the sincerity in his voice or his beseeching gaze. 

“If it was just the music Liam…” Zayn began. “If they just wanted us to make music, then yes. But it’s all the bull shit that goes with it. Bella? Really?”

“That’s what I fucking said. I said somebody, anybody else? Some no-name up and coming model, some lesser known singer. And they said they had a shortlist, and Bella was at the top now that she’s single. They said it had to be someone young, and they wanted to go American. And they said the story would be that me and her began dating before you came back in the picture. I mean, before you and I started hanging out again,” Liam said, looking sheepish.

“Fucking predictable shits. I bet they wanted to make a story about how Gigi introduced Bella to you once you and I started working together again. But you were right when you told them that would make it look like they were just covering for us or summat -” And now Zayn was feeling sheepish, or mildly embarrassed. He didn’t know why. Both Liam and him knew what people thought. While the general public might not be savvy (Although the Larry phenomenon was a different beast, Zayn thought wryly) the people who had thoughts about the nature of his and Liam’s friendship was a much smaller group that stayed more within the boundaries of fandom itself. 

“Anyway, double dates with them would be the worst idea ever, I don’t know what they’re thinking, “ Zayn said. 

“Which is why I won’t agree to anything where they make you date someone. Zayn, I’m not going to let them put you through that again -” Liam said.

Zayn interrupted him. “But it’s perfectly fine for you? No problem being the martyr Liam?”

“I don’t mind Zayn. Honest. I’d do a lot worse if it meant getting to spend time with you. Whether we’re making music or not.”

And that’s when Zayn knew he was done for. Liam and that sincere, fucking earnestness. From anyone else, Zayn would feel second hand embarrassment for the sheer vulnerability they were showing, but with Liam it was different somehow. Yes, Liam had his secrets like anybody, and Zayn knew better than most that he kept a lot more to himself then the public would suspect - but his sincerity was completely genuine. 

The thought that Liam would put himself through the wringer of public opinion again made Zayn feel both uncomfortable, and strangley humbled. He couldn’t think of anybody else that would put themselves through that. And just to spend time with him. Was Liam that lonely? That desperate? The paranoid side of Zayn that was slow to trust but quick to discard people (Zayn wasn’t proud of this side of himself, but he also knew it existed) wondered if Liam was just using him for potential, future success? Zayn thought about how seriously Liam took everything, how driven he was, how determined. And yet, Zayn knew, deep down, that a part of him was so hungry to rekindle his close friendship with Liam that he couldn’t leave room in his imagination for worst case scenarios, or Liam’s possible darker motivations. The saner, more rational side of Zayn knew how much Liam cared (still cared, perhaps?) for Zayn.

“Ok. Fine. I’ll do it.” Zayn didn’t voice any of his concerns or inner turmoil. He simply agreed to it, and once his mind was made up, that was it. No looking back now.

Liam’s face lit up in a familiar grin. His eyes still crinkled up and his cheek still dimpled; Zayn couldn’t help but smile back. "Zayn, this is going to be great!"

“But I still can’t believe of all the fucking women on the planet it’s going to be Bella,” Zayn said.

Liam squeezed Zayn’s arm. Had he been holding on to him all this time? Zayn realized he was already sliding back into the easy familiarity of Liam’s touches; he felt rather alarmed that all it took was an anxious huddle in a break room, hiding out from the the label and PR lackeys, and they were already falling back into old habits 

“I know, I know, that part of it’s shit” Liam said, letting go and standing up.

Zayn snorted. Shit was an understatement.

“But it'll all be worth it. Hanging out and making music, Zaynie, can you believe?” 

Zayn felt a shiver at Liam’s use of his old nickname. He couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad shiver. But it was definitely a full body reaction. 

 

The rest of the meeting went surprisingly quick. When they returned to the room - Zayn’s iced coffee sadly watered down by then - the label and PR seemed to, much like a hostage situation, cave in to Liam’s demands. It was agreed that Liam would date Bella but Gigi would give everybody plenty of space so as not to fuel rumors of her and Zayn rekindling anything. The back story created established that Liam and Bella started dating, then Liam would “decide” to reach out to Zayn to rekindle their friendship, and naturally they would decide to collaborate. 

Zayn still thought the general public would hardly buy that, let alone their fans, but there was nothing to be done about that. His PR had strongly suggested that if Gigi would not return they would start thinking of someone else for him, but he brushed that off. Zayn was determined to stay single for a while now. Both in his public AND private life. Liam agreed to the condition, and seemed much calmer now that Gigi was out. 

Stacks of paper work were faxed over to Liam and Zayn’s respective legal representation and personal managers to review, and then the meeting was over. Before Zayn knew it, he was ushered downstairs and a car was ready for him outside. Liam accompanied him to the lobby, but that was where they parted. “I’m going out the back way to the underground garage in the other building so they don’t see us together,” he said to Zayn, but he was already texting on his phone and sounded distracted. After not seeing him for so long, Zayn felt reluctant to let him out of his sight. 

“Well see ya at the studio, then,” Zayn said, turning to go. He felt a hand on his arm, and then Liam was pulling him into another one of those enveloping, full frontal hugs. 

“Six weeks, Zayn. In six weeks we’ll be in a studio together. It’s sick, yeah?” Liam was practically glowing as he pulled back from Zayn.

“Sick, yeah,” Zayn parroted back. He was suddenly relieved him and Liam were parting ways for a while. He was going to need some time to process, well, everything. “See ya.”

“See ya, mate,” and then LIam was walking away, and Zayn watched the the muscles of his back move under his shirt as he opened a side door and walked through.

Zayn sighed. Six weeks. Surely by then he would be prepared for what he hoped would be a great time making music with Liam, but what he feared would be a media shit show. He could really use a fresh iced coffee right about now.


End file.
